The Ninth Ship of Elendil
by PhantomS
Summary: As the last of the Faithful reach the shores of Middle Earth, Elendil rejoices as his ninth ship arrives. Yet it is not the ship of Veantur, his most trusted captain but that of his son Vardamir. What has happenned to Numenor's greatest captain? Prelude t
1. Leaving Numenor

Elendil looked sadly on the western horizon. His father had sailed that way some time ago, to seek help from the Lords who dwelt there, or from the Eldar that sailed those seas. He took precious few of his most ardent supporters, men who would not part from the Lord of Adunie. Elendil' s two sons as well as six captains stood behind the tall leader of the Faithful, grave looks on their faces.  
  
"Amandil has failed," Elendil exhaled, bowing his head. "Our beloved land will soon fail also."  
  
"Father, what would you have us do? Many of our people have already fled for the Hither Lands and have made havens as great as ours here," Anarion the younger son spoke.  
  
"Father , we cannot stay here any longer. Pharazon is hunting for us. Vëantur and the other captains have prepared nine ships in Romenna. Our only hope lies in finding our people in the Hither Lands and returning with great force. Tar-Palantir once said that the line of Kings would end if the White Tree died. The King has killed the Tree, and thus he may be removed, and our land saved."  
  
Elendil shook his head, facing his sons and captains. "Nay, Isildur my son. Tar-Palantir was the uncle of your grandfather and is thus of our kin. Some of his foresight is in me also, and I can only see the Sea all around us with no hope. Leave we must, but there is no return, unless the Powers return us Nùmenor after ruin. I have looked in the Stones, my sons. The Eldar also fear what the King is doing on our old haven of Adunie. Long was it the haven of the Eldar, and now all I have seen is armament and instruments of war. The end is nigh, and a chill runs through my bones and a knife through my heart. What comfort we have is in the stones and the Tree you rescued. Only one friend we can count on, and that is Eronion Gilgalad of Lindon. To him I might seek, if all else fails."  
  
Vëantur ,the most senior of the captains strode forward and kissed Elendil' s hand. Looking up at his lord in awe, he stood up to his full height, still one and a half feet below Elendil' s head. He was the Captain of the Venturer' s Guild, the old organization begun by King Tar- Aldarion and the greatest captain in Nùmenor. Pharazon had sought his skills for his dastardly plan to invade Valinor, but could only succeed in persuading his son Vardamir. Vëantur' s skill was unparalleled, and unknown to Pharazon his ships harried those of the King's Men in Middle Earth, returning treasure looted or unjust tribute. He was not of the royal house, yet was esteemed by them for his prowess, particularly as he was not part of the army or navy of Westernesse and carried his own banner, the sea-hawk upon blue.  
  
" If we must leave, my lord Elendil, then I will make ready nine of our greatest ships with our people. I wish we could send for Dol Amroth or Pelargir, but they are far away, as is Gilgalad. My captains here are all faithful and loyal to your cause, and they too fear for our island. What does the Lord of Adunie command ?"  
  
Elendil looked at the sceptre of Adunie, his father's last token of nobility. He was now the leader of all the Faithful of Nùmenor and the highest ranking member of the royal house in that faction. He remembered his father, kissing the sceptre and handing it to Anarion. He drew his sword and raised it high in front of the eight other men.  
  
"This is Narsil, forged by Telchar long ago. He gave it to Maedhros the Tall , who in turn gave it to Fingon his friend, who gave it to Huor of Dor-lomin, passed to Tuor his son after he had left it behind in Gondolin. When he took axe in the Hidden City, the sword was given to his wife Idril Celebrindal, foremother of our Kings and indeed of my own sires. The sword passed down to Silmarien, who was given the Ring of Barahir, now on Isildur' s hand, the sceptre in Anarion' s hands , and my sword. All these are symbols of our enduring friendship with the Firstborn. And to maintain this friendship, we must seek out Eronion. As your lord, I give the solemn command- find all of those we know to be of the Faithful and bring them to our haven. We leave as soon as the ninth ship is filled or no more of our people can be found. Five of you will be given one of the Palantri to guide you, and the two master stones will be with me and Anarion. "  
  
"What of me, father?" said Isildur.  
  
"You will bear the growing White Tree in your ship. Sail behind your brother. Four ships I will take, three for you and two for Anarion. Vëantur, you are the leader and hindmost of the three ships behind me. For the palantir I will give you looks westward, towards its master in Avallonë. Pharazon will pursue us, and we will need your keen eyes to spot his vessels."  
  
Vëantur and his captains bowed as each received a palantir. Isildur kneeled and kissed his father's hand, then mounted and headed for the Faithful' s refuge at Romenna, where the White Tree secretly grew again. Anarion looked at the Palantir two men pulled onto a wain behind him, the large Master Stone that would later be in Osgiliath. One of the captains followed him, and they also headed for Romenna. Two other captains were already gone, following Isildur. Elendil mounted his horse and with Vëantur moved towards the haven. All the men were weeping, for Nùmenor was in their hearts and was their first love. Their tears faded into the dark night as they rode, and ever their hearts grew heavier. Mighty men and women though they were, seeds of Elros and the Edain, the Faithful would never shed more tears. Tears of regret and pain, of losing their Elanna, the Star Haven. Everyone in the refuges and secret places wept, from the oldest graybeard reaching his two hundredth year ,to young Meneldil, son of Anarion and scarcely three years old. The Sun rose the next day over the horizon, but she shone no more in the hearts of the Faithful. Their home was doomed by their King, and eastwards was their destiny.  
  
They dwelt in fear in their havens, hoping that the Valar would help them in their journey. The ships were laden with everything they could spare. But to make space for all the food, fuel and other essentials, more of the lore and knowledge of Nùmenor was lost, for few scrolls and books could be brought. Only the healers , due to the gravity of their task kept their full records and were in Anarion' s second ship. Then the dreaded day came, when Pharazon sounded his trumpets and the Great Armament sailed west, to defy the Valar and steal eternal life. The trumpets rang loud over all of Nùmenor, and the Faithful cowered in their ships, while birds screamed and horses ran wild. Sauron the Liar sat in his golden temple in Armenelos, laughing to himself as Nùmenor began its descent into ruin. The trumpets did not frighten the saddened Faithful, but made them stand firm in their ships. Elendil did not want to look westwards , and gave the long-awaited signal to launch. As planned, Anarion' s two ships went first, and then Isildur' s three, with Elendil' s four the last. Vëantur' s ship was last, trailing behind Elendil. Suddenly, a great roar came over the Island, and the ships were scattered, yet borne away from the cataclysm. Each group of ships did manage to stay together, but the sons of Elendil were separated from their father. Whatever idea of stealth Elendil had was destroyed by the prayer of the Valar in the west, who called upon Eru Iluvatar for aid. None of the ships were undamaged, as the water ripped their sails apart and tore at their hulls. Elendil' s men and women struggled to breathe as the changing of the world happened around them. The sea threatened to swallow them at times, but luck and their strength made the Dunedain have hope, as they sighted a coastline after endless days.  
  
Elendil struggled to hold to his snapped mast as he held his palantir to look eastwards. He searched high and low for any sign of life, and his heart lifted when he saw the banner of Gilgalad, and the ships of Cirdan coming to their aid. The Faithful had been delivered. In the southern seas, the ships of Isildur and his brother, together with their captains were found by roving mariners of Dol Amroth and Pelargir , and welcomed by many of their kin, already numerous in that region. The people marveled at the Stones and bowed to the White Tree that the son of Elendil recovered. The exhausted sailors were even more surprised by the reception at Dol Amroth- it was indeed the Firstborn greeting them, not their kin. All five of the southern ships had survived, and Isildur was glad for the help of the great haven of Pelargir, where legions of other ships were already in dock.  
  
Seven weeks had passed and there was no sign of Elendil. Isildur grew worried, and Anarion suggested that they use his Master stone to try communicate with Elendil' s own. To this Isildur agreed, and the leaders of the Dunedain hoped for an answer. It was to their joy that Elendil had survived, along with three of their own ships.  
  
"But where is the ship of Vëantur, my lord?" Anarion grew worried, for Vëantur was the father of his wife.  
  
"Alas, he was hindmost of our host. It is to my guilt and shame that I had placed him there. I saw none of my host until we had reached Gilgalad' s shores. Wait, a messenger has arrived here in Elestorion. A ship has arrived bearing his sea-hawk standard! Eru be praised, for we are all delivered!" Elendil smiled as Anarion wept tears of joy.  
  
But this ship was not one of the Guild's ships, but a war- craft of Nùmenor, one of the Great Armament. Its captain held aloft a great seeing-stone as the giant ship loomed over the fleets of Cirdan and Elendil.  
  
"It cannot be.."  
  
"I have returned to you, Elendil Voronwë." 


	2. Vardamir, captain of the Black Moon

The western haven of Adunie was filled with hundreds if not thousands of ships, all bearing the standards of Nùmenor . Their tall men all looked towards their greatest ship, the Sea Castle of Ar-Pharazon the Golden. They were preparing for a great stroke of doom, conquest of life itself. The King was convinced by Sauron the Great that the life of the Eldar was his by right, and nothing could stop him now, the son of Kings. Their swords were long, their banners proud as the trumpets sounded endlessly, bringing more ships into the haven, all pointed west. Eagles flew overhead while thunder exploded in the sky and lightning crashed onto the ground. One ship had a black standard, with a mighty sea-bird etched in gold. This ship was the second largest after the Sea Castle of Pharazon, and its captain was none other than Vardamir, son of Vëantur the Mariner.  
  
He was identical to his father in looks and near equal in skills of the sea, yet their hearts were divided in one thing; that the Kings of Nùmenor should be obeyed by their people in whatever circumstances, and that their word was the wisdom of the earth. He was a follower of Pharazon when he invaded Middle Earth, proudly manning the King's vessel as he landed on Umbar, being the first of the captains to set foot on that land. In his heart he had only desired to fight for the peoples of Middle Earth, who were oppressed by a Dark Lord of the East. He looked upon Pharazon with pride as the King sounded his trumpets and marched with a host three times ten thousand strong towards Mordor itself. Being a seaman, he took no part in that march, but stayed on board his ship. He was proud of this victory, and sailing back to Umbar he saw with pride that his father's people had erected a white pillar in honor of that victory. Perhaps the hostilities between the so-called Faithful and the King's Men would end, and men would reject hatred and work for a better Nùmenor.  
  
In his mind, Vardamir saw loyalty as a mark of strength, noting that Orcs and other vermin of the First Age ran when their lord was overthrown, but the Men remained and fought to the last. He had been taught from the first days of his schooling that the Kings of Nùmenor were descended from a holy line that went all the way to the Fathers of Men, Elu Thingol and the High King of the Noldor himself. He was schooled in the ways of old kings, such as Aldarion the Mariner, Minastir the fleet sender and Ciryatan the ship builder. Though these names were no longer used, replaced by Nùmenorean names, many even among the King's Men revered them. Vardamir himself was named after Elros' son , second King of Nùmenor and won high praise for his skill and the legendary exploits of his father Vëantur. He looked around for his father, hanging his head when he did not see the blue banner of the Guild of Venturers.  
  
"Captain?" his lieutenant asked.  
  
"Yes, Abbatraik? Forgive my inattention, I was in thought regarding personal matters."  
  
"I beg your pardon, sir. But some of the men are asking questions, and I do not know how to answer them. So I go to you, captain and beloved of Pharazon the King for answers, for you are close to his ear as some say," he spoke in Nùmenorean tongue.  
  
"Questions?"  
  
"Yes, lord. Some of the Men are asking me why we are sailing west, why are we not invading Eressea and all sorts of other questions. But the most frequent question is this- why does the King not sail east and remove those who oppose him first?"  
  
"So many questions, Abbatraik. I am a captain and not a sage. But to your final question I do not know the answer, save to say that the King values the prize we will get at the conclusion of this war more than subduing the rebels."  
  
"We have heard that.that Vëantur is among them, Captain."  
  
Vardamir nodded and sighed, "Yes, my father is among them. But my loyalty is to the King of Nùmenor, who is Pharazon," he said unsteadily, "and to his fair queen Zimraphel."  
  
"She is indeed a beauty, if an old sea dog like myself can say so. Have you seen her, my lord? A jewel she is, a shining star in our midst."  
  
"Yes, and she rules Nùmenor while Pharazon rules us. All the ladies are to be left behind, says the King. Yet many have disappeared or sailed to Middle Earth since the Great Armament was sounded seven years ago. War necessitates safety of the unarmed, but I do find our King's decisions baffling at times."  
  
Vardamir looked at the Meneltarma, the holy mountain even Sauron had not defiled. He would often see his King there, together with the Queen. There was something about her glance that often piqued his curiosity, and an unfathomable shadow of fear fell upon him when she walked past. The fear was not his own but hers ,he judged. She was strong in her own right, but something had affected her from within. He dared not think those thoughts until one night, when he encountered her alone in the royal gardens, weeping over a small statue. Unknown to him, that statue was of her father Palantir the King, who died of grief over the refusal of the Eldar to return to Nùmenor. That refusal led him and many of the Dunedain seething with hate for the Eldar, who seemed to only come when it suited them. He had long desired to sail to the Lonely Isle, but forbidden by his father. He never understood the Ban of the Valar, and agreed with those who were against it. How could Men and Elves be friends if Men could not even visit the Elves?  
  
A few weeks later, all ships were commanded to sail to the West, to take what the King claimed as his own. The Black Moon, Vardamir' s ship sailed proud beside Ar-Pharazon' s Sea Castle, with many men at the oars fighting the lack of wind. Hundreds upon hundreds of ships sailed west like a great cloud of black, until little of the Sea itself was visible. Vardamir felt the fury of the westlands, with shadows and powerful winds that penetrated the very heart, and the shrieking of the sea birds was impossible to shut out. Ships were tossed about, with men flying about and munitions scattered like spilled salt. But the Men of Westernesse had strong wills, and even stronger slaves at the oars. Savage men of Middle Earth, as Vardamir was told, brutes with no hope of battle against the might of the Sea-Kings and captured. The fleet passed by the barriers largely intact, and the defense they had expected was not there. Eressëa was in the distance, a lonely white island on the horizon. But the Armament was headed for Valinor, the land of the Powers. There were no beings of any kind on the shores of Valinor, neither Elf or beast. The sky, which was black with rage earlier had calmed down to a silent blue and the waves were nothing more than a child's splash. Pharazon stood at the prow of his ship, proud and willful. Valinor ,and the promise of eternal life was now at hand. He would defeat the Powers and gain their treasures, and return to his Queen in glory. The Queen he had broken in spirit years ago by stealing her Sceptre and wedding her against all laws of Nùmenor.  
  
As the Men of Westernesse stepped upon the shore, they heard no sounds and laughed, thinking the Elf-messengers were bluffing. Vardamir did not laugh, and was one of the last to come off the ships, looking east. Abbatraik came with his captain, amazed at the wonders of the Peleori and the great Mount of Manwë. The Men under Vardamir were members of the Guild of Venturers who did not join Vëantur, and thus shared in wonder and awe with their captain. The silence made Vardamir uneasy, and he begged leave to speak with Pharazon, who was making for Tuna where the Dunedain would set up camp before pushing for Formenelos and Alqualondë . Pharazon gladly admitted the captain, letting him into the tents.  
  
"My lord and king, I am uneasy with this silence of the land. The land is no different than the seas, where silence is a token of disaster. My men and I seek your counsel, for the Black Moon did not expect to come to these shores without battle, and my men are restless. Shall we march ahead and scout the territory?"  
  
Pharazon, wearing golden armor lined with rich furs stood from his seat, placing his hand on the shoulder of his captain. He laughed, pointing at the gap of Calarciya.  
  
"There is my, and all of our dreams. After these mountains is the hall of the Powers, who unjustly consigned our forefathers to mortality and the sickness of death. Death, ever it has robbed us of our joy! Fathers die in front of children, who die before their own. These Elves live for ages and fear no old age or dotage, and the Powers love them. I do not, Vardamir. We are Children of the One and are equals to these Elves. I will fight for our right of life. Come, take your men to my camp! You will be the first to come to the Halls of the Powers, and after me, taste the victory for uncle Palantir and those Elves who scorned him! Never follow them, my son. They will make you forget your own heritage, and steal your short lives to be their servants. I have turned the tables, for in your own ship lie Elves that are rowing our oars. Elves I have imprisoned for their long lives, as punishment for trespassing."  
  
"Elves? You told us they were savages of Middle Earth, my lord."  
  
"Yes, many of our ships have those men. But your ship I have filled with Elves because they know of your father, my son. The traitor Vëantur, the Elf-lover, having you for a son! Their spirit must be broken, if the rowing has not!" Pharazon laughed loudly.  
  
"My father, King? I have not heard of him since he has sailed to the Hither Lands. I had thought he never came back from exile."  
  
"Yet he has been in Nùmenor , Vardamir. He and that despicable Elendil, plotting against your King and Master. Your loyalty to me is a great example to my men, that our destiny to be the Great Ones outweighs any bond."  
  
Vardamir bowed, and left the tents. He was puzzled by Pharazon' s speech, speaking almost as a madman. While it was true he was approaching old age ,he still stood tall and proud amongst the Dunedain. The news that his father was perhaps still in Numenor gladdened him, and he yearned to return to Numenor to see him. For he and his men loved Vëantur , listening to his tales of adventure from their childhood to manhood and even to old age. When the news came to Abbatraik and the others, they looked eastwards and did not turn. Days of silence and camp-building only served to increase their unease . There was no battle on any front and the Black Moon was anchored in the bay, inactive and quiet. Vardamir felt guilt over the Elven-prisoners in his ship and allowed them to walk off the ship, though he kept them under guard, for slaves were not allowed to leave without the King's permission They were amazed to see the Blessed Land, though their home was in Eressëa. Vardamir often talked to them secretly, for his parents had educated him in the Elven-tongue in his childhood. What he learned from them destroyed his faith in the King; that Sauron the Dark Lord was his advisor and that this fleet was trespassing in territory ruled by beings of unsurpassed power, unsurpassed save by one. It was this power that would punish them. From this power no army would survive.  
  
Vardamir did not know what to do. His King was ready to strike in a few days, and his heart did not want whatever prize the King was after any more. He confided in Abbatraik and the men of his ship and guessed that Zimraphel the Queen could be persuaded to rule Numenor against Pharazon, who it turned out was not only the Queen's cousin, but an illegitimate son of Gimlikhad son of Ar-Gimlizor. Zimraphel was the daughter of Palantir the King and was now the rightful heir to Numenor in Vardamir 's mind. She held the sceptre and the other heirlooms, though Pharazon took the axe of Tuor, Dramborleg on the Sea Castle along with his sword Aranruth. One night ere the assault, Vardamir and Abbatraik snuck into Pharazon' s tent and stole the Axe, but not the sword. The alarms sounded and the two Men fled for their ship, chased by many tall men and the King. Abbatraik held the axe and escaped into the darkness, but Vardamir was waylaid by the wrathful King, mounted on his horse. Torches burned all around him ; he was surrounded. He hoped that Abbatraik had made it to the Black Moon and warned the crew.  
  
"You! Why do you steal my axe, Vardamir son of Vëantur? I called you my son, and here you stand, a thief in the night! What power made you turn against me, your Lord!?" Pharazon' s eyes burned red , his wrath barely containable.  
  
"The only power I posses is the love for my father, whom you have unjustly called a rebel. I cannot serve such a wicked ruler of you. You have kept me at sea, as to hide your atrocities from me. The Elves told me all, of the burning sacrifices to the Enemy , the killing of the White Tree- are you of the Dunedain or some alien race? You are no king! You are a demon of Morgoth!"  
  
Pharazon laughed and raised his sword," Brave words, from a young pup like you, Vardamir. You seem young, yet are older by lesser men's thoughts. I am greater than you, greater than the Powers! I am Lord of Middle Earth! And you shall be my first sacrifice!"  
  
The King rode towards Vardamir, who did not move and was prepared to die. He had hoped to reach this end at the least, and knew his men would be safe far away on the sea, far away from this madman. Horns sounded behind the host of Pharazon, and the ground began to shake. The heads of the two men behind him were hewn off, and Vardamir turned around to see Abbatraik, wielding Dramborleg along with many of the Elves of the ship, now freed from their chains. Pharazon was not moving, hearing a voice none others could hear.  
  
I am Lord of Middle Earth and its Creator. You were of a noble line, King of the Dunedain. You have broken the long covenant of your people. Now the Valar have laid it down to me, and so I shall give you your reward. Rest under the mountains until all is broken and the world remade!  
  
The entire land shook and shuddered as Pharazon held his ears, screaming unknown words and curses. The Elves and Abbatraik took this chance to pull Vardamir out of the ambush and they all headed for the ship, which the Men had anchored on the nearest coastline. They loved their captain too much to allow him to die by the King's hand, though some felt that this was treason, albeit necessary treason.  
  
When all had boarded, Vardamir stood on his prow and yelled.  
  
"To Numenor! Full sails, full oars!" he repeated in Sindarin, much to the amazement of the men. The Black Moon turned around, bobbing up and down in the waves that were growing in size. Men were screaming and running around on the coasts as their ships smashed into one another and madness overcame the captains, thinking some Elvish weapon had overcome them. A darkness lay on those that remained on shore, and the Men of Vardamir only saw the light of torches being extinguished and men screaming. The ship turned its rudder towards the Blessed Land and headed for the Star Haven, before it too would be overwhelmed. The ship withstood the great waves and torrents of the Downfall, and the free Elves fought hard to keep the ship afloat. Vardamir himself called out to the Powers and the One, begging to be left to go home. The storm seemed to push the ship eastwards, towards their goal, yet many men and Elves were thrown overboard or knocked against the walls of the ship .  
  
To their amazement, Ossë the Maia of storms seemed to answer Vardamir' s prayer, sending the ship on a wave crest towards Numenor, where all were unaware of the impending doom coming from the West. Vardamir heeded not the westlands and sailed to Romenna with all speed, but found that the haven of the Faithful was abandoned, Elendil having left a short while ago. He broke out of his ship on his horse, searching for the Queen. By luck or the grace of Oromë , his steed reached the palace in what seemed to be a short while. He found the Queen at the Gates, barely clad and holding to the Sceptre of Numenor. Her father's foresight had manifested itself in her, and the frightened Queen , in her fragile state of mind decided to head for the top of the Meneltarma, the highest summit in Numenor. Vardamir could not stop her, though he fired an arrow at her hand, recovering the Sceptre. She was lost to him, as he could not chase her and return to the Black Moon in time. She would later ascend the mountain, but be ultimately drowned by the waves that swept over the Land of the Star. Vardamir rode hard to the haven, where his men were all afraid of the violence of the waves. His horse rode its last near the end, falling and dying from exhaustion. Vardamir continued running, leaping onto the ship as it was casting off. Ossë smiled at his newest command and commanded all the seas to drown Numenor as soon as the Moon had escaped, though he was unaware of the Nùmenorean ship.  
  
The crew of the ship were the only Men to have seen firsthand the downfall of Numenor, as Ossë and other vassals of Ulmo destroyed the Island in a mess of waves and rocks. The memory would live in their minds forever, and would have haunted them for the rest of their lives, had one of the Elves not suddenly spoken.  
  
The End, the Downfall Great Kingdom of great Men, Where they touched the stars, humbled the winds Taught other Men, fought other Men  
  
Rich were their Kings, beyond the measure of Men Not in gold, silver or aye, mithril But in wisdom and blessedness Knowledge of the world, keenest of eyes  
  
Evil was brought to the Star-Land Evil that corrupted the hearts of Men Yet light can never be extinguished forever Those that live after that day, and their kin Are that light, and it shall lead others against darkness  
  
Darkness of ignorance, darkness of fear. Arise, fair men of the Dunedain!  
  
Yet none of the Dunedain of Vardamir rejoiced at the words. All simply knelt and wept openly for days. They may have been be all that was left of the Dunedain, lost and adrift in a sea full of horrors and enchantments. Food would not be limitless, and even the Elves would need sustenance. If their lot was to die in the open sea, then Vardamir accepted it. The Sceptre he laid in his quarters, kneeling before it. It would only befitting if the Sceptre of Elros died with his land. Vardamir' s thoughts were towards his father, who he thought dead. It was indeed his father he was searching for in Numenor, as Elendil his leader was of the royal house , and might have taken the throne in an attempt to save Numenor.  
  
Atarinya. 


	3. The Anger Of The Sea, Mercy unlooked for

Two months did the vessel of Numenor sail aimlessly in the fogs of the Sea, without a Sun to guide them. Some of the crew had already died of starvation, and Vardamir himself wished he could eat the munitions and swords on his ship. Then one day, hope was sighted from the crow's nest. The figure of a ship was in the distance, though it did not seem to be moving. Indeed, its sails were broken, and the bodies of its men were hanging over the sides of the ship, as if they were corpses. Vardamir gasped when he saw the standard of the ship. Half-torn, but clearly visible was the blue Sea-Hawk banner of his father. He hurriedly ordered his tired men to board the other ship, and ordered all that could be spared to be given to the hungry men on the other ship, which had been adrift much longer.

In this the Elves shared their medicine and even mariner's waybread, and helped the Men to their feet. Some of the Men panicked and tried to fight Vardamir' s men, as they were still in Pharazon' s colors, but the sight of the Eldar calmed them.

"Where is my father, sailors of Elendil?"

"He is in the hold, where he fled when he saw your ship. He did not see your banner, Vardamir and fled to protect…to protect …"

"What is he protecting? Speak, my friend!"

"See for yourself. I will lead you down."

Vëantur had drawn his sword, along with many men and women to fend off this assault from Pharazon' s men. The Palantir was their responsibility, a gift from the Eldar, possibly made by Fëanor himself. They had endeavored to use the Stone to find their way east, but the broken oars and sails and general damage to the ship rendered it immovable. The sight of his own helmsman was a surprise, but the man behind him made him lower his sword altogether.

"Father? Eru be thanked! I have searched long and hard for you and your leader Elendil! Father! Our land…"

Vëantur dropped his sword as his son embraced him, crying. He stroked his young son's hair as he told his story through his sobs. Everyone was aghast at what happened, the drowning of Numenor and the total destruction of all Elros' sons had built. The death of Zimraphel led to the ending of the Royal line, and as Tar-Palantir had prophesized the ending of Numenor itself. Vardamir only wanted to be with his father, if only to die together of hunger.

"I love you, father…our Men of the Guild are ready to follow you and your people to wherever Elendil has commanded."

"My son, we have here a stone of the Elves, which can see far and wide. Use your will to gaze eastwards, and you will find Elendil and his sons. Take these people on board your ship and head east. My ship cannot sail any more. And I am afraid I am too frail to be its captain. Using the stone has taken my strength away. I am old, I see my end nearing."

Vardamir saw the lines of age on his father's face, although he was only one hundred and fifty years of the Sun in age. The Stone was used to search for the other eight ships, to no avail. Avalonnë did not answer, as the Teleri were in fear of Pharazon' s assault. He had lost hope when the Black Moon arrived.

The women and children were loaded first ,with the Elves moving onto Vëantur' s ship to salvage as much as possible. They were capable mariners, knowing what could be taken from the old ship to help sustain the new. The men followed next with the supplies and many scrolls and books, with Vardamir and Vëantur last to emerge with the Palantir. Vardamir walked onto his ship with the Stone, while Vëantur held the Royal Sceptre, in awe of its brilliance. He was healed in some measure by the Elves. When Vëantur and the Elves, together with his lieutenants were ready to board, a heavy wind blew all off their feet. Two voices rang out in the clouds.

_Now, Ossë! We shall see if you are worthy of my position as herald of Ulmo!_

_Indeed, Abra. I am a Maia whilst thou art a Dragon. Here we duel, far from any interruptions. The winner after five days will be herald. And naturally, it will be Ossë the Maia._

A great blue creature emerged from the Sea, the likes none of the Men had seen before. Behind them rose a powerful form, Ossë the Stormlord, with great shoulders and endless winds in his belly. One was Abra, the Dragon of Valinor under Ulmo while the other was Ossë, a violent but faithful servant of Ulmo. After Numenor, Ulmo made Abra his vassal and herald, but Ossë grew jealous and challenged Abra. In truth, their feud had lasted since the days of Eärendil, who witnessed their powerful fury first hand.

The two beings fought with all the sea-power they knew, ancient spells of the waters and waves that blew the two ships apart form each other.

"Is it our destiny to be blown around forever?" Abbatraik screamed over the waves.

"These two have been in argument over Ulmo' s favor since I was a young Elf, my friend. We are doomed to die here if they do not see us, for they are not aware of us."

Vëantur' s ship was lost to his sight, as was the Sceptre, yet Vardamir summoned all his strength to grip the Stone, and directed it at Abra, who was locked in battle with Ossë. Abra felt the power of the Nùmenorean' s thoughts, and begged Ossë to halt. The Storm Lord backed away, thinking Abra had conceded defeat.

_Mighty lord of the Sea! I beg you, my father! My father! You have thrown his ship far southwards, and I cannot see him, even with this stone! Help us, Lord!_

This, before his ship was blown far north-eastwards by the vortex caused by the duel. Abra jumped to search for the ship, which he never found. Ulmo would hear of this battle and admonish Ossë for his rashness in challenging Abra, he who drowned Numenor and destroyed Pharazon' s impious fleet. Yet Vëantur was not forsaken. His ship drifted far towards the south beyond the sight of Men or Elves, and men were surprised to feel the thud of dry land on their ship.

Vëantur and his surviving crew stepped out onto the sands, which lay in front of what appeared to be great orchards in bright sunshine. Behind it was a great city, with red walls and golden gates. They mustered all their strength to reach the orchards, which were in fruit. As they could no longer contain their hunger, they ate from the fruits, devouring them. Vëantur stopped when he saw that his men and Elves were surrounded by whispering voices. A tall man ,dressed in white walked out to meet him. His face was fair, and it was clear he was not merely of the race of Men. He spoke the Elven-tongue to the mariner, and motioned for his companions to help the sailors find proper food and shelter.

"I am Amroth the Blessed. Welcome to Galvadia."


End file.
